


Belt and a Bad Day

by BendyDick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: It's late, Look at those tags, M/M, Sibling Incest, Spanking, pain fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BendyDick/pseuds/BendyDick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Enjoying yourself are we?” Mycroft asked with an eye roll and took a seat in Watson’s typical green arm chair. His voice made him seem completely unfazed by walking in on his dear little brother’s shameless wanking session but the feint red hue in his naturally pink cheeks told of a different story. “Honestly I thought you had gotten over your little fetish.”</p><p>Co-written with Nan and me for a tumblr thingy I was dumb enough to do again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belt and a Bad Day

Sherlock sat on the couch in the living room of Baker street, hand fisted around his hard cock and the print outs his brother had given him laying slightly crinkled beside him. He was going slowly up and down his thick shaft just getting started after John left to get more milk after the gallon he just bought mysteriously was empty. 

The print outs were pages directly from Irene Adler’s twiter which, in stunning short hand, managed to graphically depict events that happened between her and her …‘friends’. Simple things like, ‘Fun night utilizing the whip again’ or ‘OMG, you should hear this one scream.’ But it was enough to spark Sherlock’s almost none existent sex drive. So much so that he didn’t bother to look up when the door to 221 B was cracked open and a certain government worker with a job title that didn’t quite explain his duty’s strolled leisurely into the living room. 

“Enjoying yourself are we?” Mycroft asked with an eye roll and took a seat in Watson’s typical green arm chair. His voice made him seem completely unfazed by walking in on his dear little brother’s shameless wanking session but the feint red hue in his naturally pink cheeks told of a different story. “Honestly I thought you had gotten over your little fetish.”

Sherlock abruptly stopped stroking his leaking member and grabbed a throw pillow to cover it before shooting Mycroft one of his customary death glares he saved solely for the other man. “Normal people knock.” 

“We aren’t normal people brother.” He responded as he picked up the print outs he’d given Sherlock earlier and flipped through them. “Which one did it for you then. Was it, ‘Chicken for dinner, yum!’?” 

“Don’t play coy. You know which.” There was a smile that stretched across Mycroft’s face at his brother’s reply and he glanced over the papers. “Who did you imagine?” 

“Obvious isn’t it.” 

“Not John then.” 

“Clearly.” 

“You could have said something.” 

“I’d rather not. You can leave now.” 

“We both know that is not what you want.” Sherlock’s glare faltered for a second and the begin of a blush started over his cheeks. “I’ll be mother.” Sherlock gulped and had to look away and pretend the words didn’t make his already aching dick throb passionately. “Have you been misbehaving?” 

“Leave.” 

“Have you been a bad boy?” 

“Mycroft.” 

“Does some need a spanking?” There was no reply to that, only a silence that stretched over the flat and a small giggle when Mycroft finally broke his brother yet again. It had been a long time since they had played like this. 

Sherlock discovered that he liked to be in trouble for more than just the brief attention his family gave him. When he was a toddler the only way to get him to stop climbing on everything was to bend him over ones knee and tan the youths back side. Such punishment continued well into Sherlock’s young adulthood. It was the only time when his father cared to talk to him and his mother even bothered to look. That might have been the reason when the punishment stopped once his balls dropped he had asked his dear brother to continue it, that or maybe he really was just a masochistic fuck. 

 

“Yes…” Sherlock said quietly hating his body for its needs and blaming Mycroft for it as he had been doing most of his life. “I was disrespectful.” The words were hissed through clenched teeth but that was enough for the older brother. 

“Do you know what happens to disrespectful little boys?” 

“They are punished.” 

Mycroft smiled and stood from his seat to remove the thick leather belt he wore just in case. “So you didn’t forget you just chose to be rotten.”

“Yes.” 

“Over the couch then. I would think twenty five should do it. No pants.” 

“Oh you would like that wouldn’t you.” Sherlock snapped back but started to move and get into position. 

“I can make the number higher, thirty?” Sherlock knew better than to respond and just finished laying himself over the arm of the couch and wiggling his pants and pjs to a puddle around his feet. Mycroft smiled at his brother’s body. It was just as he remembered it from his visits home. “Count for me.” 

There was no answer but Mycroft knew the other had heard. He folded the belt in half and stood directly behind his naked brother’s form. He took a deep breath and lined up his stroke to aim just at the curve and the sit spot on the round white bum. “Ready brother?” Again no answer but it didn’t matter; he swung and hit directly on his intended target with a loud crack. 

One hand still pumping his dick he began to count, "One!" Sherlock cried out, whimpering and burying his head in the couch, shifting back and forth on his knees until his legs were spread wide enough that - maybe - if Mycroft was off with his aim, he would strike Sherlock's genitals that now dangled through his legs. Mycroft admired the masochistic nature in his brother, but he didn't dare strike him there just yet. Not when there was so much flesh across his arse to still left to smack. 

Mycroft let the belt fly, three times in quick succession, listening to Sherlock shout "Two, three, four!" as fast as he could. Sherlock had to bite the pillow, shuddering as the belt flew over and over, staining his arse a hot shade of pink as Mycroft beat him senseless. "Seventeen," Sherlock screamed, grunting as he neared orgasm, "Please, Mycroft please you know what I need." Sherlock begged his brother. 

"You think that just because you need something that you get it?" Mycroft asked with a smirk, "Anyway you've been naughty, this isn't for your pleasure it's to teach you a lesson." Sherlock groaned in desperation as the belt came back down, "Eighteen, please!" 

"No," Mycroft told him with a smirk, bringing it back down and hearing Sherlock call out nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Please Mycroft, please I beg you! Twenty-two. I'll be good. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Mycroft!”

"Stop whining for it and I might just give it to you." Mycroft struck across his arse, watching as his skin flushed red and blistered. 

"Twenty-five," Sherlock cried, whimpering as he continued to tug at his cock. He still hadn't cum, and he was so desperate. 

Mycroft chuckled, "Alright, come on, spread 'em," he told Sherlock, watching as his little brother began to wiggle back and forth and spread his legs wide. Mycroft lined the belt up and let it drop across Sherlock's crack and slap his testicles. Sherlock grunted and moaned, jerking faster. "One more?" Mycroft asked and Sherlock nodded quickly. Mycroft brought it down again, again, again, and then Sherlock was cumming, spurting across the floor as he writhed against the couch.


End file.
